


Together Through This

by IAmNotAGoodWriter



Series: Break Through and Remember [2]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, The Misfits (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dystopia, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Illusions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Revolution, Romance isn’t the main focus, The Misfitz are chaotic dumbasses and I love them, Violence, but it’s there - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotAGoodWriter/pseuds/IAmNotAGoodWriter
Summary: John is free. They rescued him, pulled him from the grasp of the leaders. What what it worth though, when he can’t remember who he is?Smitty, distraught, restless and angry, won’t let himself sit back and let John suffer. He’ll fix this, if it’s the last thing he’ll do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m finally back! I took way too long of a hiatus because of exams, but I’m finally here with another chapter and another part to the series. This will be much better planned, I promise.

John clamped his hands over his ears, screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. The campsite had dissolved into madness in a matter of moments, arguments and yelling forming a chorus of noise. After complaints about not having a plan, Fitz had only suggested for the group to brainstorm. It took mere minutes for the shouts to grow loud, louder than John could handle. He swore through his teeth angrily. His stomach spun violently, noise both inside his head and outside causing bile to rise in his throat.  
“Oi!”  
Mason’s voice sliced through the chaos.  
“Why won’t you all just shut the fuck up and let Fitz speak, you fuckwits!” He roared.  
The arguing dissolved in an instant.  
“There you go,” He muttered angrily.

Fitz stood up once more. A dozen eyes flickered to him, watching with anticipation.  
He cleared his throat.  
“Well, it’s pretty clear we have no idea what the hell we’re doing.” He chuckled  
“No shit…” John murmured.  
“So,” Fitz continued, “We’re gonna have to take this slow. First of all, before we rush into this, do we know where the leaders are?”  
A chorus of ‘no’s’ echoed around the campsite.  
Swagger raised his hand awkwardly.  
“Well, I think I do,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pocket.  
All eyes snapped to him. Fitz nodded, encouraging him to continue.  
“Before Fitz and Toby found me, I was stumbling around the city without anywhere to really go. I got lost in the middle of stark fuckin’ nowhere and I slammed my head, helmet and all, into a wall I couldn’t see. I felt around for a bit, it was definitely a field of some sort. With the right tech, we should be able to get past it.”  
Excited murmurs rippled through the group.  
“I know where to get a city map!” Craig grinned, “It’s a map made for citizens, so government official stuff will probably be hidden, but it’s a start.”   
More people raised their hands, offering up small pieces of knowledge, such as guard placement or rotation times.

Fitz grinned to himself proudly, hands on his hips.  
“Wow, this actually worked,” He chuckled, “Very nice way to inflate my ego.”  
Smitty rolled his eyes.  
“So, are we actually just going in by ourselves, or are we doing this hunger games style?” He asked.  
Brian’s head shot up, his eyes gleaming.  
“I know what to do!” He exclaimed.  
The group focused their attention to him, listening intently.  
“The city is a majority tech based, right? If we can find a way to display a message or a video or whatever, we could rally the entire city on our side. They can’t stop that many of us!” He cheered.  
“Fuck yeah! Dude, just set up a broadcast that’ll override the news channel, record a video of one of us and we’re set!” Marcel exclaimed, pumping his fists in the air.

“Hey, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Toby cut in, “How do we know if this is a good idea? We’re basing our lives and futures on a whim. I hate to be a bitch, but just think about it for a bit. I can’t lose you guys to something stupid…”   
“Well, it’s either that or waste away here with no purpose or entertainment,” Jay scoffed.   
Toby shrugged.  
“I’m just saying. We’ve done some stupid shit before, but this is so much worse. We could die, just like that,” He chided, snapping his fingers dramatically.  
Fitz turned to him and clamped a hand on his shoulder.  
“Listen, Toby, do you just want to sit here for the rest of our lives, starving, bored, and waiting for some gift or miracle from a god that doesn’t exist?” He quipped.  
Toby clenched his jaw, fighting back a response. As much as he hated to admit, Fitz was right. He’d be bored of this place within days. Even still, he couldn’t shake the fear and nerves that latched onto him like vices.  
“I’m kinda with Toby,” Evan confessed, “The guards are everywhere. There’s practically hundreds of them and like, fourteen of us. Doesn’t matter how well we can fight or hide, the second someone slips up, we’re gone.”  
Smitty sighed, “What good will it do if we never try?”   
Evan bit his lip as he thought, a debate raging behind his skull. Eventually, he mumbled a small ‘okay’ and sat down.

“So,” Tyler grinned, “We going or what?”   
A dozen excited yet hesitant cheers responded, the atmosphere quickly brightening around the campsite. John looked around with a small smile. The harsh pounding in his head was returning, yet he couldn’t fight the infectious joy spread around the group. Slowly yet surely, conversations and cheers turned to loud, excited shouting. John couldn’t blame them, it was an excited prospect, but the volume made his stomach lurch again. He curled in on himself, knees tucked up to his chin and hands clamped over his ears. Smitty was the only one to notice. He tapped him lightly on the back, motioning for John to follow. The duo walk for a moment, until the calamity of the campsite fades to background noise.

“You okay?” Smitty asked softly.  
Not this again.  
“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.” John’s reply was instant as he waved his hand dismissively.  
Smitty looked at him incredulously, crossing his arms.  
“Listen dude, now’s not the time to be prideful. I’m gonna be honest, you look terrible, and I can tell you feel like that too.”  
John stared at him, cocking an eyebrow.  
“And why do you care?” He challenged.  
“You’re in no condition to be fighting, dumbass!” Smitty sighed, rubbing his hand up and down his cheek.  
“Wha- of course I am!” He sputtered, “It’s just a headache, I’ll be fine…”  
Smitty scoffed.  
“You really haven’t changed…” he mumbled, chuckling sadly. “Still just a stubborn prick…”  
“Rude…”  
“Listen John, do you really think you’re prepared for this? I know what the amnesia does to you! I can’t lose you permanently…” Smitty huffed, desperation seeping into his tone.

John bit his lip. There was no way he was missing out on this chance, but he couldn’t upset Smitty anymore than he already had.  
“Please don’t make this difficult. I’m not staying here, no matter what.”  
Smitty’s shoulders sagged. He balled his fists up angrily, his jaw clenched tightly.  
“Why can’t you just… listen to me for once!” He cried, shoving John backwards.  
He clamped his hand over his mouth immediately, tears of shock forming in his eyes as he fell to his knees, dropping his head.  
“Fuck… fuck, John, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, voice muffled through his hand. “I can’t afford to lose you…”  
John winced. The raw pain and defeat in Smitty’s voice sent a knife through his heart. He hated it, hated how much he hurt Smitty, and hated the sheer sadness he felt and couldn’t explain when Smitty was upset. John despised his emotions, especially when forced to confront them, usually opting to ignore them, push them down further. That was his comfort zone. This was new, foreign and daunting. He wasn’t used to feeling this strongly, this painfully, about anything, since before paradise. It was awful.

“Listen, Smit…” He murmured, biting his lip anxiously.   
“I know I’m not who I used to be. We’ve fuckin’ established that already. I can’t miss out on this, though. I can’t sit back and do nothing, letting you die to them. I… I couldn’t live with myself. Come on,” He pleaded desperately, “Just let me do this. Please.”  
Smitty looked up, furiously wiping at his eyes. He looked conflicted, confused, and hurt. He sighed heavily, letting out a watery laugh.  
“I’m such a fuckin’ baby…” He chuckled, traitorous tears falling from his eyes.   
He fought to contain his crying, sobs clawing up his throat and forcing their way through his mouth. Eventually, he broke, dissolving into uncontrolled crying. John crouched down awkwardly, slinging his arm around him, hoping desperately to offer a shred of comfort. To his surprise, he wrapped his arms around John, pressing his face into his shoulder.

John sat there for a few moments, paralysed, before his arms drifted up to wrap around him in response. He let himself relax, melting into the hug.   
“I’m sorry…” Smitty hiccuped quietly, his sobs gradually fading away.  
John merely held him tighter in response.   
Eventually, Smitty pulled away, eyes red and breath shaky.  
“I can’t stop you from going. God, I really want to, but I can’t. Just… please stay safe. For me,” He said quietly, pleading gaze locked into John.  
John nodded.  
“I will,” He smiled.

 

“I promise”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medical shit is very vague, as I’ve never dealt with things like that before.. oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Mason Bradford! For God’s sake, hurry up! Sundown isn’t gonna wait for you to get your arse off the ground!”  
Mason shot Fitz a ferocious glare, pouting childishly.  
“Oi! Don’t rush me!” He huffed, shoving a hoodie into his already overflowing backpack.  
Fitz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and tapping his foot impatiently.  
“An actual child...” he muttered.  
He grabbed Mason’s sleeve, pulling him away from his packing. Mason shouted in protest, swatting at his arm.  
“Just give me a second!” He whined, fending off Fitz’s grasp.  
“We don’t have a bloody second!” Fitz roared.  
Smitty gently elbowed Swagger, whispering, “Are they always like this?”  
Swagger rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He stood up, walking over to where the two were bickering, and harshly hit them both on the back of the head.  
“Aw, the fuck mate!” They yelled, shoving Swagger backwards.  
Swagger, unfazed, shrugged.  
“You two needed to snap out of it before you ended up at each other's throats. I helped.”  
“Yeah yeah, whatever...” Mason grumbled, “I’ll be done soon.”

Smitty and Craig laughed as they watched on, Swagger returning to them and promptly sitting down in a huff. John fought to contain his laughter, hand covering his mouth.  
“So,” He hummed, “how long until we can go? I think everyone's ready.”  
Swagger shrugged.  
“Just until Mason gets his shit together, I guess.”  
A loud cry sounded over the campsite, Mason hollering curses as Fitz picked him up by the elbows, dumping him on a log beside the fire.   
“Bitch… I was nearly done!”  
“Sure, sure,” Fitz sighed.  
He adjusted his belt, making sure his dagger was fitted nicely.   
“Alright everyone!” He boomed, “Get ready and get the fuck down here! Debrief time!”  
The others eagerly came out from their tents, each person clad in black, wielding numerous knives and guns, faces covered by balaclavas or masks. Fitz watched proudly, hands on his hips.  
“We’re ready for a bloody war! Feels like I’ve got a whole platoon here,” He chuckled.  
A dozen eyes flickered to him, eagerly waiting.

“So,” He began, “Everyone remembers the plan? And your teams?”  
Cheers of affirmation rose from the group.  
Fitz nodded.  
“Right, good. So, in your assigned teams, you should all have a single task for getting us in. Be careful, as some of you have more difficult missions than others. Do not, and I mean do not, fuck it up. Remember the code word if you get caught. Use you radios whenever you need,” he commanded. “Smitty, Craig and John, you three are in charge of scouting the area before the rest enter.”  
Smitty glanced over at his team, giving them each a sharp nod.  
“Brian, Matt and Marcel, disable sensors. Nogla, Tyler and Mason will take care of any guards present. Swagger, Delirious and I will follow them. Toby, Jay and Evan are carrying the rest of the gear. Keep each other safe, watch your teammates six.”  
Shouts and yells erupted from all those listening, pure determination reflected on their faces.  
Fitz grinned proudly.   
“Alright then!” He cheered, pumping his fists in the air. “Suit up boys, we’ve got a bloody war to win!”

The group stood up, laughing and joking as they gathered various weapons and supplies from the pile beside the fire. Smitty adjusted his pack, stowing a small hunting knife into his pocket. He looked up to see John, smiling to himself slightly, forcibly shoving the contents of his pack down. Even if he insisted on being fine, Smitty couldn’t stop the concern gnawing away at him. John looked up, catching Smitty’s gaze.   
“You sure you’ll be fine? Hundred percent sure?” Smitty asked, raising an eyebrow.  
John rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.  
“Yes, I’ll be fine, Smit...” he grumbled, waving his hand dismissively.  
Smitty nodded, biting his lip nervously. He brushed off his fear, forcing himself to focus on packing. John would be fine… he was sure of it. Right now, he needed to focus on the mission.

In a few minutes, the group was fully packed. They waited around the campfire, restless and excited as they buzzed with excitement.  
“Alright boys, this is it,” Fitz announced with a grin.  
“Once again, remeber your plans, do not fuck it up, and stay safe. Smitty, John and Craig, you guys go first. We’ll follow right after.”  
Smitty nodded, curling his fingers around the small signal device Fitz gave him.  
“Let’s fuckin’ do this!” He yelled, the others cheering loudly in response.  
As he passed Fitz, he gave him a small smile.  
“See you soon,” he winked.  
Fitz shot him a grin in response, mouthing ‘good luck’ as Smitty walked off towards the city.

The hike to the outer walls was boring, to say the least. Smitty and his team were nervous and antsy, eager to start their mission. They rehearsed their plan a hundred times over, Craig obsessing over the smallest of details and variables. John looked as if he’d go mad if Craig went on. It was nearly pitch black by the time they saw the distant neon lights of the city. Smitty’s panic rose again. His palms felt cold and clammy and taking in a full breath seemed more difficult than ever. He forced himself to continue. Fear would only hinder him. 

The group crouched behind the giant walls, listening intently. Craig knew the guard rotations well, having studied it to escape many years ago. The shuffling of boots and exchange of murmurs echoed from inside the walls, and he gently nudged the others.  
“Now,” he ordered, voice barely even a whisper.  
The group sprang into action, driving their knives through the sturdy tiles and dragging themselves up. John was the first to reach the top. He perched cautiously on the flat edge of the wall, silently studying the ground below him. In the distance, he could see a few other teams beginning to arrive. When Smitty and Craig both reached the top safely, he gave them a quick nod and motioned to the ground. 

Blind spots for motion sensors were scattered around the guard zones. John gently lowered himself to the platform below, landing with a muted thud on the roof of a guard post. The others quickly followed, balancing on the concrete outcrop. Smitty pulled out his radio, wincing as it crackled to life much louder than he expected.  
“Clear around the seventh to twelfth outposts, Lot of guards around the first. Nine minutes until the next rotation. How are the sensors going?” He whispered.  
“We’re working on the sensors,” Brian hissed through the static. “Give us a minute.”  
Smitty cursed quietly under his breath.   
“We don’t have much time. Get it done as quickly as possible,” He ordered  
”Right, right. Over and out.”  
Smitty sat there, fidgeting and twitching in nervous anticipation for what felt like hours. Time ticked by, far quicker than he liked. Eventually, he heard Brian’s relieved voice come to life through his radio.  
“All clear.”  
Smitty felt a part of his panic fall away.  
“Thank fuck. Tyler, it’s safe to go now. Guards will rotate in three minutes. Hurry,” he instructed in a low voice.

He heard Tyler grunt in response over the radio. He could see him, very faintly in the distance. Smitty’s hand rested on the small pistol on his belt. The second someone fired, he’d have to take action.  
“Ready?” He whispered.  
“Ready,” Tyler affirmed.  
John and Craig shifted beside him, silently grabbing their weapons.  
“Go. We’re right behind you,” Fitz ordered.  
Smitty held his breath and waited. The world around him seemed to go silent. Time slowed the city surrounding him. 

A gunshot tore through the silence. The loud thud of a body, shouts, swears and orders filled Smitty’s ears. He snapped to action immediately, aiming his weapon at the head of an unsuspecting guard below him. His shaking fingers pulled the trigger, sending another shot through the night. A bullet zoomed past near him, then another. John ducked low, yanking Smitty down with him. Craig took to returning fire, the sound of rapid bullets loudly bouncing around the city walls.   
“Move! Move!” Craig shouted.  
He brought an arm up to his face, ducking his head and vaulting down to the city beneath them. Smitty and John quickly followed, sending fire towards any guard they could see.

The pounding sound of boots connecting with concrete grew nearer to the group. They pushed themselves to run harder, desperately trying to avoid the shots raining down on them. Bullets zoomed close to them, grazing their arms or legs. John heard Smitty cry out in pain as he stumbled and fell, face connecting with the ground. Hard. John whipped around in an instant, crouching beside him and grabbing his arms urgently. A dark red stain bloomed under Smitty’s pants, and a steady stream of blood flowed from his nose. John cringed as he looked over him hastily. Smitty barely held back his cries, whimpering and shaking as he wiped at the blood caking on his face. John hoisted him up by his elbows, slinging an arm around his shoulder.  
“Come on, we need to fucking go!” He urged through gritted teeth, breaking into a mad sprint as he carried him.

Smitty’s feet threatened to give out beneath him. He felt dizzy, nauseous and light-headed. He pushed himself on, desperately stumbling after John. His face and hands were matted with blood. His leg was numb. He couldn’t breathe or see properly. Still, he forced himself forwards for what felt like an eternity. John kept his arm wrapped around him, breathlessly murmuring words of encouragement.  
“In here! Now!” Craig yelled, sharply veering left towards a large, run down building. He rammed into the planks nailed to the entrance with his shoulder, crashing onto the hard tile floor. Footsteps pounded past them, gunfire fading into the distance.

John felt relief crash over him like a wave. He dragged Smitty inside, propping him up against a wall as gently as he could. Craig stationed himself at the door, finger resting on the trigger of his rifle. John desperately grabbed at his radio, shakily holding it up to his mouth.  
“Urgent! Urgent! This is John, we’re currently hiding out somewhere deeper in the city. We-we were running a-and Smitty was shot. He’s bleeding, he’s bleeding really fucking badly. I- I don’t know if I can deal with this by myself,” He stammered desperately.  
“Where are you?” Fitz barked, the panic in his voice amplifying John’s fear.  
“F-fifth sector, I think like ten buildings down from the outposts. Come quick, for the love of fuck!”

He switched his radio off, tossing it aside, turning his attention to the injured man in front of him p, Smitty’s whimpers and muffled cries of pain sent daggers through John’s heart. He opened his backpack hastily with trembling hands, digging around for a cloth. He pulled out his medkit, opening it and setting it besides Smitty.  
“Alright, Smit, I need to have a look at your leg. Just… stay calm. It’ll be okay,” He instructed, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.   
Smitty merely nodded, eyes wide and face covered in blood. John pulled back the leg of his pants, wincing as he heard Smitty cry out.   
“Oh fuck…”

His leg was caked in blood and dirt. John nearly threw up when he saw it.   
“Okay, okay… I can manage this…” he hissed.  
He grabbed his cloth, dabbing an antiseptic gel onto it and gently pressing it against the wound. Smitty sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, gritting his teeth harshly. John glanced at him apologetically, pressing the cloth down harder as he pushed himself to ignore Smitty’s pained noises. He wiped away most of the dried blood, removing the cloth and quickly grabbing a roll of bandage, tying it tightly around the wound.   
“That’s all I can do for now,” he sighed.  
He took out a wipe, gently scrubbing the blood sticking to Smitty’s face away.

Smitty gave him a small, pained smile, mumbling a small ‘thank you’. His face was a sickly white, the bandage around his leg already stained a crimson red. He gently shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him. John glanced anxiously over at Craig. God, he hoped the others showed up soon. He wasn’t sure what the hell to do for Smitty, or even if what he did was right. All he could do was pray for his safety. 

The hurried pounding of footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. Craig stiffened, aiming his rifle at the door, John following soon after. A large group of men clad in black approached the door. John cocked his gun, pointing the barrel at one man’s head.  
“Hey, hey! It’s us, chill!” Fitz cried breathlessly, ripping his mask off and raising his arms defensively.  
Craig let out a sigh of relief, dropping his weapon.  
“Get inside, quick,” he ordered.  
The others piled inside, dumping numerous packs onto the ground, some opening medkits or packages to attend to their wounds. 

Immediately, they all noticed a deathly pale and weak Smitty in the corner. Toby rushed over instantly, crouching down beside him.   
“What the fuck happened?” He cried.  
John winced.  
“He… He was shot while we were running. Lower right calf. He fell over too, hit his nose on the concrete, hard.”  
Toby nodded grimly.  
“And you’ve wrapped the wound?”  
“Also put antiseptic on it,” John nodded.  
“Was there an exit hole? Is the bullet lodged?”  
Shit.  
“I… don’t think there’s an exit...”   
Toby cursed under his breath.  
“God dammit… We need to get rid of it, then. Fuck, how the hell are we going to do that?” He sighed.

A figure shuffled in the shadows, stepping forward to the light from a room no one bothered to notice.  
“I can help,” they offered nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character soon! Let me know what you think of this chapter, and thanks for reading! Love you all   
> -L


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don’t know medical stuff, hope it’s accurate enough

“Who the fuck are you?!”  
The man backed up in an instant, raising his hands out of fear.  
“I… uh…” He stammered, “My name is Anthony. I’m a defect, just like you. I’ve been hiding here for ages, and I… I saw the guy in the corner, I thought I could help...”  
Fitz scoffed harshly.  
“Heard that before,” he snarled, taking a step forward and shoving the barrel of his rifle to Anthony’s temple.  
“Don’t play with our heartstrings and cut to the chase, fucker. Where’s your backup, huh? Where’s the other soldiers?”   
Anthony cowered and trembled under his gaze, sputtering helplessly with tears glistening in his eyes.   
“I’m-I’m not one of them! I swear! Seriously!” He cried.  
Fitz glared at him ferociously, reluctantly removing his gun from the man’s temple  
“You’re lucky Smitty’s dying… One chance. All you get. Pull a quick stunt on us, I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out.”

Anthony’s shoulders sagged in relief as he let out a long breath. He cautiously walked over to where Smitty lay, his skin sickly pale and his breaths weak. Anthony crouched down beside him, gently holding the wounded leg up to inspect it. Smitty let out a small grunt of pain. John tensed up beside him, scowling slightly. Anthony cursed under his breath sharply.   
“Well? What is it?” John huffed.  
Anthony winced, inhaling sharply through his teeth.  
“Well, it’s not good, that’s pretty clear. The bullet is lodged in his tissue, pretty deeply too. He’ll get an infection or die if we can’t get it out and stitch him up safely.”  
“Wow, how fucking helpful was that!” John snapped, “We didn’t just spare your life for a fairly obvious diagnosis. Can you help him or not?” 

Anthony shot him an irritated glare.  
“I already said, I know someone who can help, he’s stationed in the centre district.”  
Fitz barked out a harsh laugh.  
“Oh my god,” he hollered, “Totally haven’t heard that one before! If you want us killed, maybe make your stupid traps less obvious?”  
Anthony frowned slightly, biting back a retort.  
“I’m just saying, the guy’s going to die if you don’t let me help,” he shrugged.

Fitz sobered up slightly, glancing to where Smitty lay. He knew Smitty needed immediate help, help that no Misfitz was qualified to give, but all his instincts screamed at him to just shoot Anthony and move on.   
“I think we should just go,” Craig sighed, “I mean, look at the condition he’s in. This could be the only chance we get to save him.”  
Fitz paused for a moment, deep in thought.  
“Fine…” He huffed, “lead us to this ‘friend’ of yours, Andy.”  
“It’s Anthony.”  
“Whatever.”

Anthony sighed gruffly, zipping up his jacket.  
“Who’s coming with me? It’s not going to be the easiest trip, like a few hours walk, so only come if you're up for it.”  
Mason’s head eagerly shot up.  
“Fuck yeah, I’m going! Better fun than doing nothing here,” he grinned.  
Fitz chuckled slightly, ruffling Mason’s hair.  
“I might as well make sure Mason doesn’t get himself killed.”  
“I’ll go,” Swagger shrugged.  
Brian stood up and nodded, stowing his gear back into his pack.   
Fitz shot a glance at John.  
“You coming or not? Thought this would be your thing.”  
John bit his lip, looking over to Smitty. He can’t leave him again, especially not now, but he can’t just sit idly and wait and see if the others come back.  
“I’ll… I’ll go,” he sighed.  
Craig shot a small smile at him.  
“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” he said.  
John nodded reluctantly, standing up and slinging his bag onto his back.  
“Lead the way.”

The group snuck their way out of the building, steps cautious and muffled. Anthony kept pace a few steps ahead, peeking around corners or edges. John kept his hand on his makeshift gun holster, flinching with every slight noise he heard. Occasionally, the footsteps and hurried whispers of citizens passed by. They often glanced at him, gazing longingly at the clothes and weapons he bore. They never turned him in. Nobody would.

“I still don't trust him,” Fitz hissed, small pistol gripped tightly in his hand.   
John bit his lip nervously, glancing over to Anthony.  
“He’s our only shot at saving Smitty. If he turns, we can take him.”  
Fitz merely shrugged, a suspicious glint in his eyes.   
“You're just paranoid, he’s all good. I woulda blown his head out if I wasn't sure,” Mason grunted.  
Anthony didn't seem to hear, still moving with caution as he scouted the area in front. 

Slowly, day began to break around them as they walked. The sun rose higher, worn concrete under John's feet turning to smooth tile. Buildings grew taller and more cluttered as they ventured deeper into the city. Anthony stopped abruptly, holding his hand up as a sign of caution. Mason drew his weapon silently. A man in the distance barked an order John couldn't make out, a dozen voices calling out in response. Anthony swore quietly under his breath.   
“Quick,” he hissed, “As soon as I say, we need to go as quietly as possible past them. We're not too far now, if we hurry we'll be okay.”   
John nodded sharply, rifle in hand. 

“Go!”  
John stooped as low as he could, supporting himself with his hands as he made his way across the city. The group did the same, the soft pattering of their feet barely audible.   
“Hey!” The cry of a soldier cut through the silence.  
John’s head whipped around, just in time for a small platoon of armour-clad soldiers to turn their attention to him. Without a moment's hesitation, he pushed himself up and broke into a mad dash, stumbling slightly over the tiles. A bullet grazed past his hair. The sound of Mason hollering as he returned fire echoed around the walls. 

Anthony covered his head desperately, forcing himself to run faster and faster. He veered to the right suddenly, weaving in and out of alleys. John fought to keep up with him, lungs burning as he ran. The sound of gunfire slowly faded into the distance, leaving just the heavy impact of the groups boots on the hard tile. Eventually, Anthony slowed his pace, stopping himself in front of a large, oval-shaped building.   
“Come on, this way,” he ordered, waving the group over as he made his way around the outer edge of the building. He stopped at a small sliding door, a keypad set into the wall next to it. He looked around cautiously, quickly punching a code in. 

The door slid open silently, revealing a long, narrow corridor. He slipped inside silently, the group filing in behind him. They passed multiple doors, some locked and sealed, some wide open. Halfway down the corridor, Anthony stopped and turned to a light blue door, opening it gently. The others cautiously entered, scoping the small room before them. A medical bed sat in the corner, numerous cabinets and tools John couldn’t name scattered around. A brown-haired man in a lab coat sitting at a desk turned around abruptly, face splitting into a grin as he made eye contact with Anthony.

“Anthony! Good to see you man!” He grinned, standing up and wrapping the other man in a hug.  
“Yeah, good to see you too, Brock,”  
The man pulled away, studying the others in the room suspiciously.  
“And… who are these?”  
“Oh! Right,” Anthony chuckled.  
“These are some guys I found after they broke into my hiding building. They had a guy in the corner with a bullet hole in his calf, still lodged in there. They’re defects too, so I figured they needed your help.”  
Brock nodded slowly, lips pursed into a thin line.  
“I see… well, I guess I can help. My name is Brock, I’m a senior nurse here. May I ask what happened? The full story?”

“Well, me and my friends have been on the outside for a while, and Fitz,” John said, motioning to the blonde man beside him, “had the idea of… a revolution type thing. We were sick of all of this, all the bullshit and silence, and wanted to do something. So, here we are. We infiltrated the city in groups. The guy who was shot, Smitty, was with me. We were running deeper into the city and guards were chasing us, and… he um, got shot. Lower right calf.”  
Brock watched intently, a determined glint shining in his eyes.  
“What did you do to the wound before leaving? Please tell me you put antiseptic on it…”   
John scoffed.  
“Of course, I’m not that stupid. I also bandaged it.”  
Brock nodded solemnly.

“Well,” he sighed, turning around abruptly and opening various cabinets around the room.  
“Let’s get going then. I haven’t been allowed out in weeks.”  
He grabbed a large backpack, stowing numerous medical supplies and bottles inside. John watched him impatiently, rocking back on the heels of his feet. Every second that passed, Smitty could be slipping further and   
further away from life. God, he hoped Brock could save him. Eventually, Brock slung his overflowing pack onto his shoulder with a grin.  
“Come on, let’s go.”

The group filed out of the building, heads held low and footsteps cautious. Brock took in the sight of the sun and buildings happily, trailing a few steps behind the group. John found himself digging his nails into his palm worriedly. The group wasn’t moving fast enough. The hideout was too far away. He could tell Fitz shared this thought, his steps hurried and brows furrowed. John almost cried in relief when he saw the broken planks and worn walls of the hideout, sprinting inside as soon as he saw it.

His heart sank to his stomach.

Smitty’s face was ghostly white, covered in sweat and stained with tear tracks. His leg was swollen and red and his breathing was faint and erratic. Craig was desperately trying to coax some water into his mouth, Smitty shaking his head and mumbling something incomprehensible in return. John ran over to him in a flash, crouching down beside him and looking over him concernedly. He looked awful. His pulse felt too weak. Brock gasped when he saw him, opening the contents of his pack hastily and crouching beside him.

He pressed a hand to Smitty’s forehead, frowning as he pulled it away.   
“Jesus… How long has he been like this?”  
“A.. few hours, I think…” Craig murmured.  
Brock opened a small bottle, pouring three light blue capsules into his hand.  
“He won’t eat,” Craig warned, “I’ve been trying.”  
Brock merely shook his head, gently tilting Smitty’s head back to open his mouth.  
“No…” Smitty mumbled, weakly swatting at the air in front of him.  
“Hey, it’s okay,” John soothed, gently holding Smitty’s wrist.  
Brock popped the pills into his mouth, pouring some water in. Smitty whined in protest after swallowing.  
“Stop… go ‘way…” he hissed. 

Brock dug around in his pack, opening a small case. He pulled out a pair of tweezers, gloves and a bottle of antiseptic. He cautiously shifted Smitty’s leg over, wincing as his face scrunched up in pain.   
“I might have to put him under…” Brock sighed.  
“Yeah, whatever. Just help him, doesn’t matter what you have to do,” John spat.  
He watched nervously as Brock opened a small syringe, filling it with a thick, clear liquid. Hesitantly, he plunged it into Smitty’s neck.   
“John, press a cloth up to the needle hole,” he ordered, pulling a pair of rubber gloves on.  
John nodded quickly, holding a cloth cautiously to Smitty’s neck.   
“I need someone to come here and help,” Brock grunted, “Put on a pair of gloves and I’ll tell you what to do.”  
Toby rushed over, hastily pulling the gloves on. 

“Hold open the wound, I need to clean it up and pull out the bullet.”  
Toby nodded, placing his fingers around the wound and pulling it open. Brock quickly wiped down a pair of tweezers and pulled out a small cloth, scrubbing the outer area of the wound. John felt himself gag.   
“Here goes nothing…” Brock murmured, picking up the tweezers. He worked with caution, hands steady and eyes focused. The group watched on, fear reflected on every face around the room. Eventually, Brock heard the clink of metal against lead. He gritted his teeth, clamping the tweezers around the bullet and slowly pulling it up. With a triumphant grin, he cautiously removed the blood-covered bullet, placing it on the ground beside him.

John felt relief wash over him as he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Brock gently dabbed more antiseptic around the wound, pulling out a small needle and thread.  
“He’ll be fine now, I just need to give him stitches. I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but soon enough he’ll be back up.”  
He furrowed his brows in concentration, threading the needle and slowly stitching the wound together. After he was done, he wrapped Smitty’s leg tightly in gauze, sitting back and sighing in relief. John gave Brock a small smile, mumbling “thank you” as he packed up.

Smitty would be okay, and that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Please leave a kudos and a comment telling me what you think.  
> -L


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally posted again! Getting better at writing transitional scenes and longer paragraphs, hopefully should post more chapters more frequently

Smitty jolted upright and pressed a hand against his chest, his heart pounding beneath his ribs. Control of his breathing slipped from his grasp as he gasped for a full breath of air. A throbbing pain pulsed in his head as the world spun around him, his leg burning and swollen. Sweat dripped from his brow as he wiped at his forehead with clammy hands. Silence filled the room around him, broken only by the sounds of a dozen people snoring. Outside, rays of light poked their way through the mouldy wooden boards nailed to the windows. Shifting his leg cautiously, he kicked the layered blankets off his lap, pushing his way through the flares of pain that shot through his calf. 

Beside him, John shifted and shot a concerned glance in his direction.  
“The hell are you doin’?” He yawned, “Brock said you’d be out for longer…”  
Smitty flinched at the sound of his voice. John frowned, turning to face him.  
“You alright? It’s just me, no need to shit yourself.”  
“Y-yeah…” Smitty gulped, “What happened to me? Who’s the one with the beard and the one in the lab coat?” He asked, wiping the sweat forming on his brow with his sleeve.  
“Oh! Right. That’s Anthony and Brock. You can thank them for the fact that you’re alive. We kinda broke into Anthony’s base and he led us to Brock, a medical expert.”  
Smitty nodded slowly, hands trembling. He pulled his knees up to his chin with a wince, resting his head on top of them.  
“Does it… hurt?” John murmured.  
Smitty scoffed.  
“No, of course not. Obviously it does, dumbass,” he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.  
John raised his hands in defense, letting out a small chuckle.   
“Just asking,” he shrugged.

“Can you two shut up?” Tyler’s groggy voice rose from a corner of the room as he propped himself up on his elbows, shooting a harsh glare at Smitty and John.   
The room around him stirred, a loud chorus of yawns and grunts forming. Craig sat up sluggishly, pushing his hair out of his face and wiping at the fog on his glasses.  
“What’s th’ plan today?” He slurred, stretching his arms in a yawn.   
Brian rubbed at his face and groaned.  
“We’ve gotta make a move soon. We’re pretty much sitting ducks waiting here. It’ll only be so long before they find us,” He said, picking at his nails.

Marcel sat up abruptly with a grin.  
“What about the broadcast idea I thought of earlier? That should work well enough.”  
The room around him buzzed with murmurs of agreement.   
“A broadcast?” Brock tilted his head in confusion.  
Fitz nodded.  
“To put it simply, we got sick of living on the outside in fear. We wanted to do something, and getting the citizens on board would help a ton. Marcel figured a broadcast is the easiest way. You know, revolution type stuff,” he shrugged.  
Brock nodded, a determined spark shining in his eyes.  
“The broadcast rooms are super well guarded though,” Anthony warned, “It’s a few stories underground with sensors and guards. If you wanna fuckin’ die, go ahead I guess.”

Fitz shot him a deadpan stare.  
“What’s the harm in trying?” He challenged, “We aren’t getting anywhere by doing nothing.”  
Anthony cocked an eyebrow in response.  
“Listen, when you’re in the city, big dreams like that get crushed. You’re only going to get yourself killed. I gave up a long time ago, if you want to stay alive you’ll do that too.”  
Fitz let out a long sigh.  
“Shit’s not going to get better if you never try…” he murmured   
Anthony bit his lip, staying silent. He gave a small, defeated nod.  
“Fuck it, we’re screwed anyway.”   
Fitz grinned proudly, turning away and focusing his attention on packing.

Smitty shifted his leg slowly, pressing his palms to the ground as he pushed himself up. Taking a wobbly step, he braced himself against the wall as he stood. White hot flares of pain shot up his calf as the floor beneath him seemed to spin. He let out a pained groan, legs shaking and threatening to collapse.  
“Hey, the fuck do you think you’re doing?” John said, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him to the ground. “You shouldn’t be walking, you dumbass.”  
Smitty shot him a pained, irritated glare.  
“I can handle myself,” he huffed.  
“No, you can’t. You shouldn’t be walking at all,” Brock called from across the room.  
John grinned smugly as Smitty spluttered angrily in response beside him.  
“I have to get to the broadcast room somehow! I’m not just gonna stay here and do nothing.”  
“Well, you’re not going with that leg, that’s for sure,” Brock shrugged.

Smitty’s shoulders slumped as he let out a defeated sigh. Brock gave a small, apologetic smile as he stowed his sleeping bag into his pack.   
“Well, we can’t just leave him here,” John muttered, scratching at his chin in deep thought.  
Fitz groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“We don’t have time for this… just carry him or some shit and get on with it!”  
“God damnit… fine!”  
John looped an arm under Smitty’s legs, hoisting him up bridal style with difficulty.  
“If you drop me, I swear to Christ…” Smitty warned, glaring at John.  
John grunted in response, his cheeks dusted a light pink. He stepped forward cautiously, following Anthony as he waved the group out the door. 

Sun beamed down onto John as he wound his way in and out of alleys. Anthony kept pace ahead, clutching a map in his hands. All John could hear was the muffled pounding of feet on tiles as he jogged lightly, arms rigid as to not jostle Smitty. Around them, buildings grew taller and wider, the glow of signs and street lights sparkling as the sunlight faded behind walls. 

John’s arms burned under the weight of the man in his arms, his soles raw as he urged himself to keep up with those in front. Natural light was a distant memory as the dome encasing the inner city loomed darkly above. Pants of tired breaths grew louder as the group ran. John could nearly cry in relief when Anthony finally slowed down, holding up a hand to steady those behind him.  
“We’re here.”

Those around him could barely suppress their groans, all fighting to pry open the sleek metal doors and get inside. Brian shoved his way through the crowd, a small blade in hand. He wedged it between the doors, straining as he pried them open. A load metallic groan sounded across the alley. The knife dropped to the ground with a clang. Brian stood back, waving his arms towards the door with a dramatic flare.  
“After you,” he smirked, sending a wink towards Brock.

Sticking his head through the door, John was met with a maze of sleek, twisting hallways and bolted doors. All was silent, save for the hum of neon lights and the soft breaths of those inside. Anthony took the lead once again, striding hurriedly down the halls.   
“Jesus Christ, does this place ever fuckin’ end…” Fitz hissed, dragging his shoes along the tiles as he walked.   
Occasionally, the sounds of boots pounding on tiles would reach the group’s ears. Brock shoved them all into small rooms, telling them to shush and shutting the doors. When he thought it was safe, he pulled them out. 

Veering sharply right, the group found themselves stopping at a small elevator, a handprint device set into the wall beside it. Brock pushed his way forward, placing his right hand onto the machine. A small beep sounded from the elevator, the doors parting smoothly to reveal a cramped room. John swore under his breath, backing into the elevator’s corner with Smitty in his arms as a dozen people piled inside, cursing and grunting. Brock pressed a small button labelled 5. 

“How do you know how to do all this stuff?” Fitz asked.  
Brock merely shrugged.  
“I’m given a lot of government permission because of my medical work, I have access to most places.”  
Fitz nodded in response, busying himself with glaring at Mason, who was trying to shove Fitz away to make room.  
“Piss off mate, there’s no other room in here,” he hissed.  
Mason glared ferociously at him.  
“You ain’t giving me any room, you tall fuck!”  
“Whatever cunt…”  
John sighed, a small headache blooming at the front of his temple.

A small ding was heard, the elevator doors sliding open smoothly. The group shoved their way out desperately, piling out into the room before them. Footsteps and murmurs echoed in the distance. Brock waved them to the side, stooping low and keeping his head down.  
“Broadcast room is a few doors down. There’s guards and senors all around, follow me exactly and stay low,” he hissed.  
Taking a cautious step forward, he scanned the room before him. The group waited behind him, alert and tense. John gently lowered Smitty to the ground. Placing his hands on the ground to balance himself, Brock crawled down the halls, the group trailing behind him.

He froze in his place. A pair of footsteps and voices grew closer. Too close.  
“You know it’s going to get you fucked? JC is gonna have at your ass if you keep this up. I can already see the reports, ‘Leading scientist Ezra R. C fired after mutated raccoons escape confinement.’ Maybe I’ll save him the trouble and just tell him now…”  
A deeper voice scoffed in reply.  
“Yeah, sure. He’ll definitely listen to you, out of all people, Carson. Remember the fire two months ago?”

Both voices burst into laughter, the face of one coming into view as he rounded the corner. His brown eyes went wide with shock as he stopped in his tracks, staring straight at Brock and the group.   
“What happened racc? You just went quiet…” the other man mused.  
Racc flinched as he looked towards the halls beside him then back to Brock.  
“Nothing! I just, uh, stumbled…” He stammered.   
Waving a frantic hand, he motioned for the group to run, mouthing the words, ‘go, quickly!’.  
Brock gave him a small, thankful smile, dashing off quietly down the halls without a moment’s hesitation.

The group continued forwards, the hallways growing tighter and more restricting as they snuck their way through the lab. Brock slowed to a stop at a large metal door. Whipping his head from side to side with caution as he stood upright, he placed his hand on a small screen fixed beside the door. A small beep was heard, the doors sliding open with a seamless whoosh. John hoisted Smitty into his arms again, stepping into the darkened room.

“Holy shit.”

Overhead lights turned on with a small mechanical whir. Squinting under the harsh light, John gaped at the sheer magnitude of the room before him. Stretching far past his view, the stark-white floor was covered with countless cords, wires, electrical sockets and machinery John couldn’t hope to name. Cameras and small metal towers littered the walls and benches. Brian spun around with a giddy smile on his face, Matt and Marcel chattering excitedly behind him.   
“How do you even figure out how to operate this place?” Fitz mused, fiddling with a small computer.  
Brock shrugged, “The main control area and the recording booth are further down the centre. Just follow me.”

Smitty glanced in awe at the machinery beside him as John carried him through the room. Behind him, he could hear Mason pulling apart a small camera, only to be yelled at by Swagger. He turned his head to the side as he felt John stop. A large panel of computers stretching meters across sat tucked against a wall. Behind it, an open door revealing a large, padded, green room was visible. Bulky headsets were strewn around the desks near the computers. Immediately, Brian sat himself down at the computers, eyes shining and wide. Marcel quickly followed and pulled out a chair, leaning back and staring in amazement at the technology before him.  
“Time to get to work!” He grinned.

Fitz dramatically cleared his throat.  
“I still get to do the speech, Right? I’m still doing that?”   
Brian gave him a small nod and grunt, refusing to look up from the screens in front of him. Pumping his fists in triumph, Fitz dashed into the recording room, loudly reciting vocal warm-ups as he inspected the microphone setup inside.   
“Unique New York, unique New York, unique New York…”  
John rolled his eyes and suppressed a grin, busying himself with watching Brian and Marcel work. 

The room fell into a comfortable silence, save for Fitz’s rambling and the clicking of keyboards. Those left in the group chose to occupy themselves with resting or rifling through their packs, their conversations with one another hushed and barely audible as they let the others work. John snapped his head up, the soft sound of a door opening and quiet footsteps filling his ears. Hastily, he lowered Smitty to the ground without a word, hand resting on his gun as he stalked silently to the door. A few others behind him questioned where he was going. He opted to ignore them.

Someone’s rapid breaths grew louder. Gripping his pistol tightly, John grit his teeth and wove in between the wires and machinery of the room. Rounding a corner, he slammed face first into a person.  
“Fuck!” He hissed, stumbling backwards and clutching at his nose. His vision grew blurry as he blinked away tears of pain. Raising his gun with shaky hands, he pointed the trigger at where he thought the person was.  
“Wait!” They cried.  
John pried his eyes open.

A cowering man stood before him, dressed head to toe in guard’s uniform and armour.


	5. Chapter 5

A sickening crack echoed across the broadcast room as John drove the back of his gun into the soldier‘s head. They crumpled to the ground in an instant, the feeble rise and fall of their chest the only sign of life left in their limp body.   
“Fuck…” John panted, wiping a shaky hand at the blood flowing from his nose.   
His stomach twisted to knots, guilt settling like a weight in his chest. Kneeling down, he rolled the guard onto their back. Nothing but a small ammo case hung on the belt, the only weapon being a pistol, resting unloaded in a back pocket. The usual taser, rifle and small knives were nowhere to be found. With a pained grunt, John hooked his arms under the guard and hoisted him up roughly. 

“Who the hell is that?! What happened?!” Concern and fear wove its way into Craig’s voice as his eyes connected with the man in John’s arm.   
John dropped him to the floor.   
“A guard broke in,” he said, “I only knocked him out. There’s nothing but an unloaded pistol on him.”  
“Oh my god…” Craig groaned, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. “You just… knocked him out without a thought?”  
“What the fuck was I meant to do? It’s a guard Craig, not an innocent citizen.”

Poking his head out of the recording room, Fitz shot a confused glance to John and Craig  
“The hell are you arguing about? I heard shouting a-“   
With a sharp intake of breath, he cut himself off as he locked eyes with the guard on the floor.  
“Fuck… Is everyone okay?” He asked, dashing out of the recording room in a panicked frenzy. “Was there a breach or something? What happe-“  
“It’s fine,” John interjected, “Just a single, unarmed guard.”  
“Oh… what are we gonna do with him?”  
“Just shoot him. He could call for backup,” Tyler shrugged, expression blank as he walked over and knelt beside the guard.  
“Tyler!” Craig scolded, hitting him lightly on the side.  
“I’m serious Craig! What if he gets up and calls for backup? It’s too risky keeping him alive.” 

Craig bit his lip, a frown creasing his brow.  
“Come on Craig, they’re barely human anymore,” Nogla shrugged.  
“It’s just… not right. How about we interrogate him? Maybe we’ll get some information or help from him. I’m not letting you kill him, that’s final.”   
Balling up his fists in frustration, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.  
“You don’t get it at all, do you?” He hissed, “You’re too fucking soft, Craig. I can’t lose you because you’ve been too sympathetic towards a heartless, brainwashed rat!”   
Tears formed in the corner of Craig’s eyes. Tyler’s glare softened, morphing to a guilty frown.   
“Too far, Ty,” Nogla murmured.  
Across the room, Brian stood up and stomped over to where Tyler stood, crossing his arms and standing in front of Craig.

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed. “This is just mindless killing! You don’t need to berate Craig because he’s against murdering an unarmed person!”  
Tyler’s upper lip twitched to a snarl.   
“Stay out of this,” he growled, lightly pushing against Brian’s chest.   
Fitz placed a hand on Tyler’s arm, gently pulling him back.  
“Now’s not the time for this. We can figure something out, just chill,” he urged.  
Wrenching his arm out of Fitz’s grip, Tyler glared furiously at him.  
“There’s nothing to figure out! We can’t leave the guard alive, I've already said this!” He shouted.  
“Ty, please…” Craig murmured.  
“Please what, Craig? You going to tell me off? I’m the only one here who gives a shit about our safety! Do you not realise that he will kill us all if we give him a chance? Just... let me fucking protect you, this one time!”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Tyler’s head fell as his ragged breaths grew softer, blinking away tears forming in his eyes. Taking a small, cautious step, Craig stumbled, falling forward and wrapping his arms tightly around Tyler. The two stayed like that, frozen as they clung to each other, for what felt like years. Letting out a long sigh, Tyler let his arms fall by his sides, his cheeks dusted pink as he pulled away hastily.   
“We won’t… we won’t kill him. Tie him up or something, I guess,” he coughed.  
Craig gave him a soft smile in reply.

Grabbing the man by his arm, John dragged the guard to a wall and propped him up. Nogla wove a thick piece of rope around him, pinning his wrists and arms together.  
“This feels super shady,” he chuckled as he tied the two ends of rope together in a complex knot.  
“He might be concussed, be gentle,” Brock said.  
Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, John shook him roughly.  
“Wake up, fucker!”

The man let out a groan, prying his eyes open. Flinching in fear, he pushed himself against the wall as his gaze drifted to those in front of him.   
“Hey, relax. We aren’t going to kill you just yet. We just want to know some things,” John grunted.  
“I-I wasn’t here to hurt you guys, I swear! I’m not like them, just give me a chance!” the man cried, breathing rapid as he dissolved further and further into a state of panic.  
“Oh, calm down already,” Tyler groaned, “Don’t play at our heartstrings. How did you find us? Who else is with you?”  
“I saw you go inside this room and… so I um, I followed you in. It-it’s just me, no others, I swear!”  
Tyler barked out a harsh laugh.  
“Sure man, sure. Where’s the rest of the guards, hm? Where’s your backup?” He taunted, glaring down into the guard’s eyes.

The man’s shoulders fell, his face twisting into a scared, tired frown.  
“I’m not… I’m not one of them,” he murmured, “I never wanted to end up like this. They’ll kill me if I don’t pretend.”  
“Oh, boo hoo, what a lovely sob story. How fucking cliché can you get?”  
“Tyler, he could be honest. The guards don’t… they don’t feel anything. This is too real for an undercover guard,” Craig said softly.  
He turned his attention to the guard. “What’s your name? What happened to you?”  
“My name? My name is, uh, Scotty. I’m soldier serial code J-407. I was a defect a while ago, I hid in the city, stole food to eat, then I… well, got taken, as you can guess. I don’t know much of what happened after that, all I know is that I hurt people. A lot of people. I guess during that I just… realised what I was doing and ‘woke up’. I’ve been pretending to be like them ever since…”

Nogla cocked an eyebrow. “And how can we trust you, huh?”  
Shooting him a deadpan stare, Scotty sighed, “I think I would’ve killed you by now if I’m so dangerous, don’t you think?”  
“... whatever.”  
With a small smirk, Scotty turned his attention to Tyler.  
“Are you gonna untie me already or am I just gonna stay here and waste away?”  
Tyler narrowed his eyes into a glare.   
“Sharp tongue, hm? Pull a single quick move and I will not hesitate to kill you. If you so much as insinuate…”  
“Yeah, I got it, I got it,” Scotty yawned, waving his hand at the air around him. “Just get the goddamn ropes off me.”  
Begrudgingly, Tyler sawed his knife between the thick lengths of rope. As the ropes binding him fell to the ground, Scotty stood up and stretched with a grin, ignoring the weary glances from all of those in the room.

“So, you all want to introduce yourselves?” He asked.  
Looking up from his computer, Marcel gave him a dry stare. “It’s Marcel.”  
“Hm, very friendly.”  
Marcel shot him a harsh glare, opening his mouth to retort. John stepped forward, shaking his head towards Marcel.   
“Relax. My name is John, the silver haired one is Craig, Tyler’s the grumpy one who interrogated you, Nogla’s the one with the thick Irish accent. If you see someone on the ground, that’s Smitty. He’s injured and needs his rest, so you best leave him the fuck alone.”  
Scotty let out a low whistle. “What… what happened to him?”   
“Shot in the leg as a bunch of guards chased us.”   
“What the hell were you doing?”  
John gave a simple shrug.   
“Moving from the outside into the city isn’t too easy. Guards saw us, shot him, and now we’re here.”

“Wh… why were you on the outside? Why are you here now?”  
“You ask a lot of questions.”  
“Well I’m curious!” Scotty spluttered, crossing his arms in defence.  
John rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.  
“Basically, it was safer for us on the outside. I got taken as we went back in ages ago, I can’t remember jack shit anymore and we’re just sick of this whole dictator thing, so we decided to do something. We figured rallying citizens was the best idea.”  
Scotty nodded slowly, brow furrowed in thought. 

“So, you’re sending a broadcast out?”  
“Basically, yeah.”  
Sending a quick glance to the computers where Brian and Marcel sat, Scotty chuckled to himself, “You guys have no idea what you’re doing, I can tell.”  
“Fuck off,” Brian sneered, “I know what I’m doing!”  
“No you don’t!” Nogla yelled, sending a wicked grin towards a fuming Brian.  
“I can help you guys, you know,” Scotty shrugged, “I’m more than willing to give a nice middle finger to the leaders and guards,”   
“We don’t need you, we’ll be just fine,” Fitz huffed.  
Jay gave him an incredulous glance. “Lose the ego Cam, this could help us!”  
“W- I don’t have an ego! I’m just saying, we’ve managed just fine without a guard helping!”  
“Yeah, you’ve made so much progress in the hours we’ve been here, haven’t you? Just let him help, man…”  
Fitz fell into silence, Jay and Scotty sharing a triumphant grin.

“Well boys.” Scotty cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms out. “Let’s get to work!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think -L


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I’m finally back after a long break and tons of assessment tasks.

“Unique New York, unique New York…”  
“Fitz, are you ready or what? You’ve been at it for like three hours!”  
“Oi, don’t rush me! I need to be ready if I want to give a good speech.”  
Swagger let out an exasperated sigh, “god dammit...”  
Sticking his head into the recording room, Marcel waved Fitz over to the computers.  
“The channels won’t be prepared to display a prerecorded message,” he said, “They've only been made to handle live input. We can gain a hold of the signal, but only for a little while. You’ll have to do your speech as live improv, so get to the point and keep it brief. We could be kicked off the network at any time.”  
“Yeah yeah,” Fitz yawned, waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll be okay. You just tell me what I need to do and I’ll be all good. Let’s get to it.”

Giving him a curt nod, Marcel turned back to his screen with a determined glint in his eyes. Hissed curses and the clicking of keyboards filled the room, the others standing around the computers and watching with bated breath. Disappearing into the recording room, Fitz combed a shaky hand through his hair and faced the camera.   
“We’ve got it!” Brian exclaimed, “Get ready, live in ten…”   
Smitty watched the screens with nervous anticipation. Static flared on the monitors, scrambled noises sounding from the speakers. A loud beep exploded from the soundboards, the static fading away as the screens flickered to reveal Fitz, standing calmly. 

“Attention all citizens… my name is Cameron Elstone, known as Fitz. I’m the founder of the Misfitz, the rebel group residing in the city. We need your help. This is a call to action, for all of you. We have been mistreated for far too long. They have been mistreating us for too long. It’s time we do something about it. Break their control, show them that they no longer have the power. Fight, kick, break shit, anything. A rebellion is brewing, ladies and gentlemen, and we need you to help.”

The screens switched to black. Cheers erupted from the group, Swagger wrapping his arms around Fitz in a crushing hug.   
“We did it! We fucking did it!” Nogla exclaimed, slinging an arm over Brian and Marcel’s shoulders.   
“That was incredible!” Smitty grinned, his eyes shining with tears and a giddy smile.   
Excited murmurs, hugs and celebration buzzed around those in the room. Tyler hoisted Craig up by the armpits, holding him in the air in childish laughter. 

“Hey!” Scotty shouted.   
Chatter faded to silence, the room falling still.  
“I hate to interrupt…” he coughed, “but we gotta go. Now. They’ll be here soon.”  
“Aw come on, just let us have this for once…” Nogla groaned.  
Pushing Swagger’s arms away, Fitz sighed, “He’s right though, they know where we are now. Get going boys! We‘re getting the hell outta here, quick.”  
A chorus of cursed and grumbles rose from the group as they disperse, hastily shoving supplies into backpacks and loading firearms. Brock waved the group over to a small elevator across the room, instructing them to get inside.

Loud footsteps pounded outside the hallways, the sound of metal clanging against metal resonated through the door.  
“They’re here already!” Toby cried, “Barricade the door, go!”   
Hissing in pain, he shoved a desk towards the door. Tyler rushed over, straining as he pushed a large computer towards the door. The clanging grew louder, large dents appearing in the metal. Voices shouted at them to open up, spitting threats and warnings like venom. A bullet pierced the door, grazing past Tyler’s head.  
“Just get out! We’ll hold them off, leave!” He roared.  
“No! We are not leaving you here,” Craig grunted, hooking his arm around Tyler and pushing him towards Brock, who was trying to herd the group towards the elevator. John hoisted Smitty up, sprinting over to the elevator and dumping him on the ground inside, dashing off towards the supplies. 

Scooping an armful of rations up with Craig trailing on his heels behind him, John stumbled back towards the elevator.  
“Hurry! Come on!” Brock cried.  
A long, metallic groan sounded across the room, the floor trembling as the heavy door fell to the ground. Dozens and dozens of guards poured into the room, brandishing firearms and batons. Craig gripped his pistol with shaky hands, sending a glance towards Brock.   
From the elevator, Tyler called “For fuck’s sake, hurry up Craig!”  
Craig hesitated for a moment, frozen and trembling.  
“What are you waiting for? Just get over here!” 

With a deep inhale, Craig gave him a small smile, turning to face the hoard of guards with faux confidence.   
“I’m sorry!” He called, tears burning in his eyes.  
Pistol raised, he took off and ran, his feet pounding against the tile, faster and faster without so much as a backwards glance. Tyler’s heart sank to the floor. He shot forward, held back by Brock clamping a strong hand on his arm.  
“No! No no no no… stop the fucking elevator! Now!” He wailed, fighting against the arms holding him back in a desperate attempt to reach Craig.  
“It’s too late, we need to go,” Brock murmured.  
The elevator doors whirred shut with a small click. Gunshots faded into the distance as the group ascended towards the surface, Tyler’s breath hitching in a strangled sob.

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“I… I had to. I’m so, so sorry.”  
Grabbing Brock by the collar with tears cascading down his face, Tyler glared furious daggers into his eyes.  
“Sorry? You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say?” He growled, “What is wrong with you?! You, you left him there! You left him there to die!”  
“Tyler, look-“  
“Don’t you dare, you sick piece of shit. You’re lucky we still need you alive, because I-“  
“That’s enough!” Brian yelled, prying Tyler’s hands off of Brock and pushing him back. “We couldn’t stop the elevator. It was either him or all of us. He chose to… to do that himself, it’s not Brock’s fault and you know this.”

Vision tinted red and blurry with tears, Tyler whipped his head around, scowling at Brian as he fought back choked sobs.  
“No, you don’t get it!” He snapped, slamming his fist into the elevator walls, “You never needed him like I did! He’s gone, Brian. He’s fucking gone, and you just… don’t care! You’re more focused on protecting your precious little Brock than acknowledging, hey, my friend of seven years just died and it’s this little weasel’s fault! Did Craig really mean nothing to you? Nothing at all?!”   
“No,” Brian murmured, voice shaky with restrained tears, “You’re not the only one who misses him. We cared about him… I cared about him. We need to keep going, it’s what he wants.”  
“Shut up...”   
“Listen-“  
“Just… shut up!” He roared, “Shut up about what he wants! You don’t feel the way that I do, especially not about him. I-I can’t just... shrug this off and keep going like you can! I can’t do that without him!”  
The elevator fell to near silence, filled only with the sound of Tyler’s muffled sobs.   
“God, Craig, I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry,” he whimpered, burying his head in his hands. “Please, please come back…”

Pushing himself up against the wall, Smitty staggered to his feet. A sharp burst of pain erupted in his calf, waves of nausea crashing onto him as his surroundings spun and swayed. Bile rose in his throat, the rations he ate threatening to make a reappearance. Stumbling, he pushed his way through the crowded elevator, falling forward and wrapping his arms around Tyler in a tight hug.   
“Get off of me…” Tyler hissed, swatting Smitty’s arm away.  
Feet planted and unmoving, Smitty simply hugged him tighter in response.  
“I’m not leaving,” he murmured.

Tyler’s head fell, his arms drifting up and clinging onto Smitty’s hoodie. Hot tears dripped in a steady stream down his cheeks, absorbing into the orange fabric. A small, strangled sob left his lips.   
“Please don’t do this,” he grunted, “just leave me alone.”  
Shaking his head, Smitty said, “I’m staying right here. We have to keep going Ty. For Craig.”  
“I… I can’t. I needed him.”  
“So did I. I needed John when he was taken, too. Craig did that for us, we can’t afford to waste it.”  
“He’s gone. He’s gone forever, a-and I’ll never get to see him again. I’ll never get to tell him...”  
“I know. I can’t fix this, but it’s not going to get better if you don’t let us help you. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. We’ll be okay, and we’ll do this for him.”  
Tyler let out a watery laugh. “God that’s so fuckin’ cheesy, he mumbled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Soft, sad laughter turned to strangled hiccups and sobs, Tyler wrapping his arms around his torso, bowing his head and curling in on himself.   
“Isn’t that funny?” He spat, “as soon as he leaves, I’m ruined. I needed him, so badly, and the second he’s gone, I crumble. Isn’t that pathetic…”  
Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, Smitty gave him a concerned glance, brows furrowed and tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.  
“Ty, liste-“  
“Go away,” he snapped, “Leave me alone. You shouldn’t have to deal with… with me. I- I’m not supposed to be like this. Just go.”  
“No. I’m not going to leave you like this. We miss him too, but I’m not letting you suffer alone.”  
“My fault… it’s my fault he’s gone. If I could’ve gotten to him, if I could’ve reached him in time, he’d be here. He’d be okay…”  
“It’s not your fault,” Smitty urged gently, “at all. It’s nobody’s fault. It’ll hurt more staying, trust me. I know. We just have to keep going. Please.”  
Drawing in a shaky breath, Tyler gave a small nod.  
“For… for him,” He whispered, a silent ‘thank you’ hanging from his lips.

Falling back against the elevator walls, Smitty let out a small sigh, John wrapping a cautious hand around his arm. Wiping at his eyes, he lowered himself to the floor and let out a breath of relief. An uncomfortable silence hung over those in the elevator, the tension thick and air heavy.  
Clearing his throat, Smitty asked, “So, um, what’s the plan? Where do we go now?”  
“It’s not gonna be pretty out there,” Scotty grunted, “I can get you guys into a guard outpost and get you uniforms to disguise yourselves, it’ll let us hide in plain sight.”  
“Woah, slow down!” Fitz exclaimed, “you know how dangerous a guard outpost is, right? We’d be shot on sight with the smallest of slip-ups…”  
“Trust me bud, it’s better than not having cover. I hope you guys can act well, because you’ll need it.”   
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fitz let out a long sigh. “We’ve lost enough today... I can’t let us waltz into direct enemy territory, especially when they’re on high alert.”  
“I’m just saying, if you don’t want to die, you should come with me.”  
“Yeah yeah, whatever…”

Slowing and whirring to a stop, the elevator let out a small beep. The doors slid open to reveal a sleek, twisting maze of corridors. Scotty motioned for the group to follow, ducking his head down low. Screams and crashes resonated from the city outside, a chorus of unbridled chaos seeping through the walls. John scooped Smitty back into his arms with a pained grunt, rushing off after the group.   
Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, he clenched his fists and pushed open the door. 

“Holy shit…”

John’s jaw fell slack, his eyes wide as he saw the city streets in front of him dissolve into chaos. Blaring sirens, crackling gunfire and screaming grated against his ears, his head pounding and blood pulsing. Thick tendrils of smoke rose into the sky from smouldering piles of garbage. Broken glass and rubble littered the tile pathways and asphalt roads, stained with blood. Guards barked out sharp orders and threats, brandishing their weapons as they chased the fleeing citizens. Smitty’s stomach dropped as a bullet collided with a man’s forehead, their body dropping to the floor like lead. John tightened his grip around Smitty, gritting his teeth and stooping down low as he trailed behind the group.  
“Don’t look,” Scotty murmured, “whatever you hear, don’t stop. We can’t help them yet, we just have to keep going. Stay behind me.”  
Footsteps silent and cautious, he waved the group forward.

Skyscrapers cast tall shadows down onto the group, the sun slowly fading from view as it set beneath the horizon. Hurried panting and the frantic pounding of shoes drew nearer, Scotty stiffening and slowing to a stop. Turning and facing the group with caution, he pressed a finger to his lips, Nervous whispers and hisses sounded from the alleyways nearby. Slow, heavy boots clicked against tile, the whispers dwindling and fading to nothing as a thick blanket of quiet engulfed the area. Heavy silence shattered as a woman let out an ear-piercing shriek, gunshots crackling and bullets colliding with walls. John’s arms faltered underneath Smitty as a body crashed to the ground, his face creased with a pained frown.  
‘come on, go,’ Scotty mouthed, pushing himself forward with stiff, weary movements. Nerves, dread and guilt swirled in his stomach, hidden by a thin veil of faux confidence. Guiding himself forward with unsteady limbs, he forced himself to think past the fear shackling his mind. He couldn’t afford to give up now, no, not yet. Not with how close they had gotten. 

Empty buildings that loomed above grew taller and wider, neon signs and fires replacing the darkness where sunlight once stood. A faint scent of burnt rubber filled the air, mingling with the salty smell of sweat and blood. Scotty’s movements picked up in pace. Hesitating for a brief moment, he slowly stood himself upright, motioning for those behind him to follow.   
“We’re almost there, I’ll get you into the changing rooms,” he hissed, “act cold. Stone cold. Show a hint of emotion and you’ll be shot on sight. Follow any orders without hesitation. Act robotic. I’ll get us out as soon as possible.”  
Murmurs and nods rose from the group in response.   
“Let’s go,” Fitz said, clenching his fists and dashing forwards towards the outpost. 

Quiet, rushed footsteps thudded against concrete as they moved, the lights from the outpost glaring against the darkness. Scotty’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, screaming chaos of the city long forgotten in the silence. The outpost loomed above him, seven stories of thick, fortified concrete, lookouts, barracks and sleeping dorms. Small, barred windows littered the walls. An uneasy feeling buzzed in his stomach as his eyes glazed over the building, searching for an opening. 

Beside him, Swagger traced a hand over the walls.  
“How in the hell do we get in?” He murmured, “It’s like a prison cell.”  
Rubbing a hand against his temple, Scotty shrugged, “The windows’ our best bet for now. I can try to pry one open and find the entrance from the inside.”  
“Right. You sure you’ll be okay in there?”  
“We don’t really have any other options. Either way, if they see me, they’ll think I’m one of them. Wait around here, I’ll be back soon,” he said, gritting his teeth and drawing out a small, jagged knife.  
“Good luck,” Swagger whispered, patting his shoulder gently.

Sucking in a deep breath, Scotty shoved the blade of his knife under the window cover. Grunting in pain, he pried the bars away and set them onto the ground. Soft light streamed in through a hallway, illuminating the room and reflecting off the glass panes. A shrill crack cut through the night’s silence as Scotty drove his shoulder into the window, the glass shattering on impact. Shards stuck to his uniform, digging into his flesh and drawing thin streams of blood. Wincing, he forced himself through the tight opening with slow, cautious movements and landed on the linoleum floors inside. A triumphant smile crossed his features as he picked himself up. 

“See you in a bit boys,” he grinned, taking a step towards the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed :) -L

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos, let me know what you think! -L


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